


like in the movies

by be_gentle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_gentle/pseuds/be_gentle
Summary: Rey is a famous actress whose life is forfeit to rabid paparazzi and stalker fans. For her safety, she constantly hires bodyguards--Ben Solo being her favorite. She hires him for an awards show.Now that Rey has broken up with her boyfriend, will she see that maybe there is more to her and Ben?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will jump around in time. From "Now" to "Then" and a couple of "Memory"

Chapter 1

Now:

They were relentless.

  
For the past two weeks, dozens of vultures carrying cameras and voice recorders--some even had go-pros attached to their hats like a greedy swarm of cyclops--crowded her front lawn. A dozen movies and constant residual paychecks later, Rey hadn’t been tempted into purchasing a mansion. Anything larger than her small, two story house felt wasteful. Empty. Even her home on the outskirts of Hollywood was still extravagant compared to her upbringing.

  
But this week she resented her previously private, comfortable home. Maybe she _should_ have bought that mansion when her agent had pointed it out. Maybe twenty-foot wrought iron gates at the base of a lawn the size of a golf course would have kept away the side effect of fame.

  
_Yes_ , she thought, peeking through the window at the paparazzi, _maybe it’s time for an upgrade_.

“Rey?”

She jumped. “Sorry, Phasma. What is it?”

“He’s here.”

“Right,” said Rey, pulling her hood over her head. At least it wasn’t large enough for the paparazzi to claim it was _his_.

Ben waited patiently by the door, hands behind his back. Today his hair was loose, the ends brushing past his shoulders now. How long had it been since she’d last seen him? Maybe five months. As always, he wore a black suit, a handsome grim reaper should anyone dare to approach Rey without permission.

Before he could open his mouth, Rey shoved sunglasses onto her face and slapped a hand against the front door. “Tell me you’re a hitman on the side. Come on, Solo, how much a head?”

His mouth twitched. “Refer to me by my proper title and the first two kills are free.”

“If you say daddy, I’m going to fire you.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Interrupted by Phasma, who practically shoved them out the door if they were going to make it back in time.

For the first time in two weeks, Rey announced herself to the stream of people desperate to see the effects of her misery. A bit too late, she wondered if she looked as unwashed and haggard as she felt.

“Come on,” muttered Ben, slicing through the crowd that had surrounded her car.

He was absurdly tall and broad as an athlete. Of all the bodyguards she had had over the years, Ben made her feel the safest. Tucked closely behind him, he maneuvered her into the passenger’s side and shut the door roughly. Sometimes she had let him hold her hand as they cut through crowds, something that had angered _him_ more times than she could remember.

 _Are you fucking him?_ he would scream, throwing his phone at her lap. On it another article speculating a romance between Rey and an “unknown sexy bodyguard”. _Stop requesting him, Rey, I fucking swear to god. I will fucking kill him._

“The Starbucks on West and Wilshire?”

Rey jumped. She hadn’t even noticed the car was moving. “Sorry. I’ve been in my head so much lately. Yeah West is fine.”

If he knew anything about the circumstances of her misery, he didn’t say anything. Ben Solo was many things, but a gossip was not one of them.

“I missed you,” said Rey suddenly. Her cheeks grew red. “I mean, I haven’t seen you in a long time and we were friends. Hope you’ve been good.”

He nodded. “Are you nervous about tonight?”

Then:

The twenty-sixth annual Resistance awards were in a couple of weeks and Rey wanted nothing more than to skip them. Impossible, given the requirements of her upcoming movie.

It was a gloomy afternoon that she sat, hair wet, on her couch, pretending she was anywhere but there. Given recent changes, her entire awards look had to change.

Her stylist and publicist argued for hours about it.

Should she wear black and bold make-up? _No, people will think no wonder her fiancee left her, she’s so cold. What a shrew._ Natural make-up and light, open colors? _She’s a Bond girl, for christ’s sake, she can’t be overly demure. She has to show the world she’s more than just the manic pixie dream from a one hit indie flick. Red? RED? Are you actually fucking with me? Might as well dress her up in the First Order emblem and paint her ass the--WHITE?? Way to make her look the part of a forgotten, abandoned bride, why don’t you?_

And on and on.

Since her casting for Bond, Rey had become accustomed to them speaking about her like she wasn’t in the room. Fame had treated her with privileges and riches, now that she was public property. But it had taken away her sense of self.

“I’ll wear this one,” she said quietly, touching the skirt of a gown she’s seen last month at a fashion show.

“The Ellie Saab?” asked Phasma, hand to her chest.

Bazine gaped. “Oh, that could work.”

It took the three of them to fit her into the gown and position it prettily around her frame.

Black, transparent fabric layered on top of each other, flecked with silver stars. When she walked, she was a breathing galaxy far, far away. A dark sky full of dreams.

"I want this one," she said, feeling quite exposed without a nude slip underneath, but satisfied nonetheless.  
Phasma stood behind Rey, examining her from head to toe in the mirror. “This dress will have that boy eating his heart out. Good for you, Rey.”

And like that, Rey took off the dress and sat on her couch, crying, while Bazine and Phasma discussed what make up she would wear.

Now:

The Starbucks was devoid of cameras, at least. There was a long line but no one paid much attention to them. Looks, if any, were thrown at Ben, the absurdly handsome giant.

There was one woman in particular who kept throwing furtive glances at him. As Rey and Ben waited for their coffee, the woman lingered, touching her hair and playing with the lid on her cup. It wasn’t until Ben picked up their cups that the woman swooped in, taking his coffee and writing her number across the surface.

“Just in case you’re free Friday night,” she said, flashing him a smile.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. He looked down at her phone number like he’d never seen one before. “I’m married.”

“What?” snapped Rey, straightening up.

The woman looked between them, shocked, and left in an embarrassed fluster. After ensuring she was gone, Ben leaned down and winked. “Married. To my work, that is.”

Rey laughed. It sounded fake to her own ears. “I thought maybe that’s why you disappeared for a few months. Honeymoon and whatnot.”

She tried picturing him with a woman, any woman. The image made her chest tighten. Before the _incident_ , she saw Ben nearly every day. On most dates with him, Ben would stay in the background, always preventing the onslaught of frenzied fans and paparazzi. He would monitor the parameters of her home on nights when she called the police, frantic because there was a trespasser or intruder. He was, simply, always there.

“Ben,” she said, trying to find the right words, “about last time, when it happened, I just wanted to say I’m sorry and I called your company to see if--”

The words died on her tongue as two girls walked past them, staring and giggling his name. _“Could you imagine? Right in front of everyone, he was fucking her. I can’t believe Armie Hux--”_

Ben had taken her hand and pulled her out of the Starbucks, shuffling them both into the car without another word. One of the few people she trusted with her car, he handled her esteemed millenium falcon with ease. Rey watched the passing streets through the passenger window, feeling the tears track down her face but refusing to acknowledge them. It felt like she cried every day now and she was sick of it.

“Rey,” he said. She looked at the hand he placed on her knee. “You were always too good for him.”

“Thank you.” She drank her coffee so fast it burnt her tongue and as she cleared her throat, pretending she wasn’t half dying, she snuck a look at Ben. Studied how long his hair was now. The facial hair he’d grown. She wondered how differently her life would have gone had she indulged her impulses when she’d first met him, if she had kissed him all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Then:

Her first Bond movie had hit theaters last week and with it, a sudden upsurge of attention. Fans came up to her for photos and autographs, mouths loose with compliments, and Rey loved it. Her new character was a hit and she was in negotiations to reprise her role in another Bond movie.

Life was perfect.

It was warm that night. A quick welcome of summer, her first in Los Angeles. So Rey decided to walk down the street to grab coffee, jet lag be damned.

It was on her way back that she realized the same man she’d seen inside the cafe was behind her. A coincidence, she thought. Maybe he lived within walking distance. But when he turned another corner with her, she rushed into the closest building--a boutique--and watched him enter it as well.

He was definitely following her. 

Her friends had warned her about moving to Los Angeles and there she was, already in danger on her very first day.

When she strode up to the cashier and whispered what was happening, the young girl behind the counter looked between Rey and the man. “Are you sure? It looks like he’s buying a present for someone.”

Rey stared at the girl. Then at the man. He was getting closer, stealing looks in her direction.

It was her agent she called. Phasma hadn’t been pleased, to say the least.

“Didn’t you _just_ land from London?” she yelled into the phone. “What are you doing walking around? I was going to explain all of this tomorrow morning. You can’t just walk around at night in the states when you’re a star. Just send me your location and I’ll send you someone. Ben should be there within ten minutes. Remember these three little words, Rey, because only trust the person who says them to you, okay?”

And when he arrived, he went straight to Rey and closed his eyes like he was in pain. With a great heaving sigh, he said, “Call me daddy.”

  
  


Now:

Phasma chastised her about their coffee run as soon as they returned. They _only_ had an unreasonable eight hours to prepare for tonight and already, they were behind.

Rey ignored her.

“I’ll secure the perimeters,” interrupted Ben. “While we are at the awards show, I’ve instructed Mitaka to install a more effective security system on the premises. You should be able to rest more easily.”

Those eight hours passed quickly. Her transformation should have felt like rebirth-- _here I am, as untouchable and beautiful as I always was_. Her shoulder length hair cascaded in old Hollywood curls. Terracotta lipstick and a thick, sharp eyeliner. Precise simplicity to showcase the magnitude of her gown. But her reflection carried a confidence she herself didn’t feel.

“ _Really_ , Rey?” screeched Phasma, staring accusingly at the glass of liquor in Rey’s hand.

She sipped it again. “What? It’s going to calm my nerves and I should be the perfect little puppet for you, don’t worry.”

Exasperated, Phasma threw her hands in the air and stormed off to greet the limo.

“Are you ready?” It was Ben, who now stood frozen in the living room, staring at her. She felt the heat of his gaze from head to toe.

Rey downed the last of her drink and put it down on her coffee table. She smoothed out the skirt of her gown. “Nope! But I sold my soul to the devil, so I have no choice. Let’s go.”

The whiskey went straight to her head the moment the nighttime air washed over her skin. A little unsteady, she took small steps down her driveway to the limo. Surprisingly, there were no paparazzi, so Ben helped her down the remaining steps and into the back of the limo.

“Ooooh! Minibar!” Rey leapt forward, yanking open the small fridge. “Want do you want, Solo? I’ll stick to my good old friend Jack, but if you’d rather Patron, that’s--”

“Rey.” He grabbed her wrist before she twisted off the bottle’s cap. “What the fuck?”

She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and set the bottle down on the seat. “Don’t judge me, Ben. You haven’t been there to see all the shit that’s hit the fan. I need this.”

“At least wait until the venue to order a drink. Don’t let them see you stumble on the red carpet. Rey, I’m sorry for your pain but don’t sacrifice your career over some guy.”

She knew he was right. This was a bad idea. And this was Ben, not some stranger telling her what to do. If anyone was an objective witness to her miserable state, it was him.

“Fine,” she said with a small huff. “A jack and coke would be more satisfying in a glass, I suppose.”

He stared out the window, contemplative.

“What? Am I a disappointment to you or something?”

It was then that he looked at her. “No. Never that. I only wish. . . . We had been good friends. I only wish I had been there, in some way, to help you.”

Rey nodded, blink, blink, blinked away any tears that could form. Maker, she was _tired_ of crying all the goddamn time. “You’re here now. I wouldn’t want anyone else with me tonight but you.”

Rey returned his small smile and she reached out for his hand, feeling it warm and big and so familiar. Everything about him felt like home.

Then: 

She was young. Freshly twenty-one and alone in a whole new city.

A string of indie movies so quirky she cringed at the mention of _manic pixie dream girl_ . But a job was a job, and her next one had apparently catapulted her into a new spectrum of fame. Yet she was twenty-one and a man was a man, and Ben Solo was a _very_ attractive man.

He drove her home after circling a few random blocks, preventing anyone from discovering her address. At her destination, he parked the car and opened her door so swiftly she never would have expected a man so big to be so swift and graceful.

“Thank you,” she told him, sincere to her very core. “I didn’t know what to do. It’s. . . . I’ve never dealt with anything like this.”

He accompanied her down the driveway to her front door, eyes scanning the area. “You were smart to call right away. Most people don’t and it’s too late, all because they felt rude. Here’s my card.”

“Ben Solo,” she read slowly, savoring the feel of his fingers on hers. The name tasted like a sigh of relief. “Are you going to be my first ever bodyguard?”

By now, it was dead silent in the neighborhood. Hours past a reasonable bedtime. The only light around them was a single, half-burnt lightbulb above them on her porch.

He shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair. “You may request service through the company or you could specify the agent that you want. I’m available all days of the week. Day or night.”

“Rain or shine?”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

“Doesn’t your girlfriend get mad, you know, that your schedule is so unpredictable?” she asked, tone innocent.

With an equally innocent shrug, he looked down the empty street. “That’s partly why she left me, I guess. Maybe that and the unhealthy obsession with Property Brothers.”

Rey giggled and placed a hand on his chest, feeling it seize up. She imagined maybe it was tension coiled behind his chest, the same she felt unravel in her stomach as she looked into his eyes.

He was so handsome. And his mouth looked so soft.

“Have a goodnight, Miss Kenobi,” said Ben, dismissing them, though she felt the way his eyes still bore into hers.

“Until next time, _daddy_ ,” answered Rey, returning his distance and opening the door to her brand new home. 

Next time would be close to six months after, when it was too late and she’d already met _him_.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Now:

Of course Rey presented her best self to the stream of professional cameras paid to record the night. Though she attended the awards ceremony without a date, no one asked her for any details regarding the absence of her ex-fiancee or an introduction of a new partner. In fact, her mood was lightening as she went down the interview line--until she reached the last reporter.

The reporter’s name tag read Poe Dameron. He glanced behind her and grinning, asked, “We see you’re here with your handsome bodyguard. Is this a form of revenge, so to speak, since the last time you two were seen together, he’d broken your then fiancee Armie Hux’s wrist quite violently? Or was there always some truth to the rumors?”

Rey stood frozen, unable to think let alone breath.

Poe emboldened the other reporters because now, a handful of microphones were in her face, all the questions a rapid stream of accusations and quick demands for information. 

“Are you going to become an activist for regular STI testing, especially among younger adults like yourself?”

“Is this breakup going to affect your upcoming movie?’

“Do you still have the ring? If you do, why didn’t you give it back--are you planning on reconciling with Armie Hux?”

“Is it really you in the sex tape? Are you filing charges?”

“Let’s _go_ .” It took all six feet of Phasma to shove her down the red carpet, her hand wrapped around Rey’s arm so tightly it was definitely going to bruise the next day. “Rey. _Rey_ , ignore them. Don’t answer any questions like that. We got the photos for tonight, now all we need is for you to smile throughout the ceremony and look hopeful that you’ll be nominated next year. Rey, are you listening?”

Rey’s eyelids fluttered and she felt dazed. “Yes. I just . . . I need a drink.”

Before she could look for the bar, Ben swept in from the shadows and delivered a drink straight to her hand.

“I’m sorry” was all he said before leaving to take his place with the rest of security. 

  
  


Then:

“It _has_ to be him, Phasma. I don’t trust anyone else to sell my photo to the tabloids or ask me about what happened so they can sell the fact that I haven’t showered in, like, two days.”

As usual, her publicist helped herself to the contents of Rey’s fridge. Somehow, from a scattered handful of random ingredients left over from when Rey was eating actual meals, Phasma began recreating something that looked akin to spaghetti.

“People will talk, Rey,” she insisted. “On top of everything being piled on you, is that really something else you want to address?”

“People are going to talk regardless of who is there. The stylist and hairdresser at least will only be here a few hours and I’ll keep my mouth shut, but if someone is going to be in my _home_ all morning, then actually with me until night, it has to be him.”

Phasma stopped chopping vegetables and stirred the sauce she was heating up, back to Rey. “You hired me because I don’t mince words. Any speculation about you and Ben was one thing while Hux was in the picture, but it’s an entirely different monster now that you’re single. A small part of your fanbase is actively routing for you two to become an official couple, so don’t be surprised if reporters crucify you because of his presence. They will either A”--she held up a finger--“congratulate you to your face and afterwards villainize you for so short a grieving process or B”--she held up another finger--“ask more about him than you, your life, or your career.”

It took Phasma another fifteen minutes to finish the spaghetti and serve them both a bowl, dusting shredded cheese and a sprig of parsley. It took Rey equally as long to finish her water and pick at the spaghetti, considering what Phasma had told her.

“No,” said Rey. “It can’t be anyone but him. If he’s not too angry he was almost fired because of me, that is.”

  
  


Now:

Rey was promptly buzzed by the end of the host’s monologue and opening skit. 

It wasn’t as difficult to smile and clap and otherwise pretend tonight was pure fun. This year Rey was seated by the stage at a table full of past co-actors. Directly to her left was her best friend Finn, who had just finished playing her romantic interest in a historical drama entering the promotional stages. Finn had a flask tucked into his jacket and kept slipping spurts of whiskey into their drinks.

At a commercial break, he looked around conspiratally and stage-whispered, “I think the Resistance overlords are trying to set us up.”

Rey giggled. “Oh yes, definitely.”

“What do you think? Should I dedicate my award to you -- because you know I am most _definitely_ winning -- and then propose, or should I wait until the after party?”

“I think you should flip this table and then cartwheel into a proper, kneeling position. Right after they name you the winner.”

“You see, Rey, this is why we’re perfect together. I’m the beauty and you’re the brains.”

They erupted into a fit of laughter until Finn slapped the table once he noticed something off in the distance. “I didn’t know Solo was back in the bodyguard business.”

Rey slowly looked over to the outskirts of the venue, where Ben walked past the stage, talking into an earpiece. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how they fired him after that whole thing with your jerk ex? He said he was going to stick to his old P.I. business.” Finn shrugged. “Guess someone shelled out enough money to pull him out of retirement.”

It felt like they were in outer space. Alone in the depths of the galaxy she represented. Inside a quiet spaceship. It felt like the wing had broken apart and she was careening into that very depth, all air lost and unable to catch herself. 

“Finn,” said Rey. “Are you sure about this?”

Nodding vigorously, he waved to Ben, who only returned a curt nod. “Oh yeah. You know my boy Solo and I have our Sunday brunch almost every week. His mom even came last week. I guess he’s helping her with some people from her nonprofit, finding the parents they were separated from and whatnot.”

Rey stared at him as though he had grown an extra head. “He’s talking to his mother again?”

“Well, yeah. Ever since his uncle got sick. Just sad. So sad.”

Ben had been so thoroughly involved in her life that in his absence, she hadn’t known what to do. The one time she had shown up to his house, ready to apologize face to face, he hadn’t been there and his neighbor had told her he rarely came. 

“I ruined everything,” said Rey, shaking her head. “I should have done more, been there. . . Finn, I ruined everything.”

He nodded like he understood what she meant. “You can’t ruin something that never really was.”

  
  


A memory:

Awards ceremonies were typically well guarded. Rey didn't need Ben to accompany her the entire night, so he spent most of the night preventing overzealous fans from crashing the night. Sometimes he had to wrangle actors from one another, the competition too crisp for the civility of black tie. One time, once he swept her into the limo, he'd sported a lipstick smudge on his neck. Bright red and distinctive.

She was drunk. Grabbed his face and angled it so she could see.

“Who gave you this?” she asked. “Was it the love of your life?”

He rolled his eyes. “One of the nominees was so plastered she was crawling in the halls. I had to carry her through the side entrance and put her in her limo. She was handsy.”

“Who was it? Tell me it was Amilyn Holdo.”

Sighing loudly, he hit the ceiling and the chauffeur began driving. “Rey, I have other clients too.”

“Yes, but I’m your favorite and you should only work with me. I can’t believe she already requested you for Cannes. That’s _next year_!”

“The company handles my scheduling.”

“Yeah, but you’re _mine_.”

And she’d fallen asleep for the ride home, only to wake up to him carrying her to the living room.

“Ben,” she said into the dark. “You should have a girlfriend. Just to keep the crazies away.”

Her couch was comfortable enough to sleep in and lately, she spent more nights on it than in her own bed. Blankets were readily within reach. Ben unfolded one and laid it on her, leaving her face exposed.

“I do have a girlfriend, Rey. Her name is Connix.”

Three days later, she met Connix. By accident. In the most embarrassing of scenarios--something she would obsess over for months.

She was excessively drunk, she could admit that much. After another blowout fight with Hux about nothing worth mentioning, she was at Starkiller with a few actors from her last movie. They were on the dance floor, lost in the frenzy of alcohol and the top 40s.

Rose had a bodyguard for the group of them. He was inconspicuous, lost in the shadows to the untrained eye. But Rey knew he was by the bathroom, back against the wall and arms crossed. Her paranoia was at an all time high, which is why she looked down at her drink and regretted ever having ordered it. She was too drunk.

As she raised her arms to the latest song, she staggered a step at the sight of Ben and a skinny blonde at the bar. That must be the girlfriend. She turned around, hoping he wouldn’t see her. So she downed her drink, scrunching up her face at the taste and pretended she wasn’t self conscious at her own distinct lack of femininity. Her face and body required experts to transform her into something that even whispered curves.

It felt like seconds. Half a step into the next minute before the world sped up and she struggled to catch up. Body weak and head pounding. She leaned against the wall, willing the room to stop spinning.

“Rey,” someone yelled but the music was too loud. An arm around her shoulders.

It took hours, months, years to open her eyes and see Ben beside her.

“It’s just. . . .” It took extreme effort to mumble those two words, but she raised her glass to him in hopes that he could read her mind somehow.

It happened quickly. The darkness of the club was replaced with the night outside, the air hot. Another summer and he was still here. 

_"_ _Ben,”_ another voice said. It must be her, the girlfriend. “Do _you_ have to be the one to take her home?”

“She needs help. Don’t you get what happened?”

Some muttering. “It’s just another spoiled celebrity you work for. Let her friends take care of her. Come _on_.”

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s my friend and I’m going to make sure she’s safe. You can either stay or come with me.”

A long silence. “Fine. I guess Jessica can take me home. But we’re talking tomorrow. This isn’t okay.”

It was inside her living room that she stopped feeling the physical altogether. What happened next she pieced together through the handful of moments she was aware of her surroundings.

He called the private nurse, who showed up in the middle of time to avoid any leaked information to the media. Phasma arrived shortly as well. Rey was in and out of consciousness, and when she sat up in the morning, it wasn’t Ben but Hux sitting beside her and eating cereal.

“Well hello, kitten. How are you feeling?”

She plopped back onto her couch and groaned. “Like shit.”

“Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”

It was with great effort that Rey climbed the stairs and stripped her clothes off in the bathroom. Hux waited inside her bedroom on his phone, occasionally calling out her name to make sure she was alive. For the most part, Rey was embarrassed. For Ben to have seen her life that, him and his girlfriend. And for that to have even happened in the first place, not that it was a surprise. Some of her castmates were morally questionable people. Rey should never have trusted someone else to buy her drink.

On the couch was a black sweater. She picked it up and just knew it was Ben’s. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she lifted it to her face and smelled it, eyes closed. Coconut and sandalwood. Just like him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Then:

It was raining.

Cold and gloomy. Rey sat at her bay window watching the rain fall, a mug of tea warm in her hands. Beside her was Finn, wrapped in one of her fuzziest robes and drinking coffee from a mug he kept at her house.

"Look at us," he said. "Old married couple."

Rey laughed. Meeting Finn was a breath of fresh air. He was her closest, most trusted friend. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she cleared her throat.

“I’m going to leave Hux.”

Still watching the outside world through her window, he nodded. “It’s about time.”

They continued the next hour with silent thoughts and background music. Rey spent it considering how she would leave Hux. Over the phone was out of the question.

She suspected Hux of cheating on her by this point and she couldn't find it within her to care very much. He was outside the country more often than in it, and the distance was making her witness his personality in a different light. Where she had found him misunderstood, she now saw him as bratty. If she was honest with herself, the longer she went without seeing Ben, the more she realized she missed him outside a platonic circumstance. And the longer she went without seeing Hux, the more she realized she _didn’t_ miss him very much.

Every tabloid had accused her of it. And she had denied it, swallowing her shame. She liked Ben. She thought of his body and his hands. She thought of the way he laughed, his dimples deep and smile toothy. She thought of Ben Ben Ben. How easily he fit into her home. How well he drove her car. How at ease he made her feel. Ben.

Without the pretense of Hux, she couldn’t keep acting as though she didn’t want things to change. As soon as Hux came back from the last leg of his tour, she was going to do it. She was going to break up with him. She was going to be free and she was going to stop lying to Ben about how she felt.

But things don’t always unfold the way you expect.

  
  


Now:

Accepting her cowardice, Rey asked Ben to exit her discreetly, avoiding reporters altogether. She knew, on some level, he felt guilty over his part of their sordid romance online. A better man, to him probably, would have refused to continue working for her.

The ride home was uneventful and silent.

Rey didn’t reach for the minibar and Ben didn’t look away from the window. When the limo parked outside her home--no paparazzi, thankfully--he opened their door and helped her climb outside the way he had dozens of times. It was cold. She wanted to wrap her arms around herself but didn’t want to let go of Ben’s hand, so she--

“Here.” 

He wrapped his arm around her and somehow that was better than she could have ever imagined. She dreaded the remaining ten steps to her front porch.

“Thank you, Ben,” she said, voice breathy. 

They stopped on her porch, facing each other underneath her single, exposed light bulb the way they had many years ago. He was so handsome. And his eyes, so full of emotion she couldn’t distinguish.

“Ben,” she said. “Do you want to come in for some tea or something?”

“Actually, maybe whiskey isn’t so bad.”

She smiled and opened the door, heart racing inside her chest so loud she knew he could hear it.

This was it.

  
  


Then:

Rey was at the farmer’s market buying ingredients for a spicy italian sausage lasagna. There were territories she navigated now alone, knowing what to expect. Daytime was best. She could pretend that the idea of her becoming Bond didn’t leave nerdy white men frothing at the mouth, calling for her blood. Dead or alive, just simply out of the picture.

Ben hadn’t replied to any of her messages or calls for months, but that wouldn’t derail her plans for tonight. Lasagna was Ben’s favorite. She’d finally paid enough people to uncover Ben’s address. She would show up with his favorite dish and grovel for his friendship if that’s what it took. Anything for him to be back in her life.

It was a farmer’s market. There weren’t magazines lining a checkout counter the way they were at a grocery store. So it was an unhappy accident that she stopped to tie her shoe and saw it.

The headline: _You can’t shake this off like a catchy song_.

Hux’s face was beside four other women, all accusing him of giving them chlamydia. In too much shock to hide her face under a hat, Rey sat and read the article. Somehow, the evidence justifying her suspicions felt worse than she had expected. 

He had pressured them into abandoning a condom. _Pull out king_ , he called himself. 

The words made her sick. The same ones he’d said to her, time and time again. Because he had convinced _her_ not to use a condom -- which only meant one thing. If he had given them chlamydia, reason stood that _she_ had it too.

She cried out in the open, great heaving sobs that sounded loud to her own ears.

It was this image that circulated the internet within the hour. Her, without any make-up, sitting on a curb crying and clutching a trashy magazine that had announced her fiance's betrayal to the world. They had been broken up for months, but the public didn’t know that yet. Two hours later and she’d become a meme that didn’t fade until a week later.

She went home and didn’t go outside for weeks.

A memory, when it happened: 

It was the end of summer. The balmy weather left Rey’s skin sticky. The wisps of hair around her face stuck to her forehead and the three buns didn’t help alleviate the heat from the back of her neck. She and Ben had stopped for ice cream after she’d finished her interview at the Chateau Marmont. He was supposed to drop her off at home.

Spending time with Ben now, having planned to break up with Hux tomorrow when he landed, felt absolutely sinful. Every time he opened the door for her, she pictured him leaning down to kiss her. When he’d wiped ice cream from her nose, his touch left fire in its wake. She was impatient for that chance to have Ben. 

When he dropped her off at her house, she leaned into the car to invite him to the beach next weekend, strictly as friends and not employer and employee, when she staggered at the sight of Hux crossing her front lawn. His arms were stretched wide open.

“Honey,” he called out, his accent--much more smoother and prim than hers--grating her every nerve, “I’m home! Tell me how much you missed me!”

She screeched as he lifted her off the ground and swung her in a circle. 

“Let me down, you buffoon!” When he did as she asked, she smoothed down her dress and muttered, “You never show me much affection unless Ben is around.”

Throwing an arm around her neck to kiss the top of her head, he said, “Well, how else will he know who you belong to?”

That afternoon dragged out the way a horror movie lingered on a dark corner seconds before a jump scare. Hux was there. And Ben was there. The threads in her plan were loose and she was grasping at them to prevent any more damage. She didn’t want to end her relationship in front of Ben. But she didn’t want to be alone with Hux.

So she insisted she needed Ben, that more and more fanboys were sending her threats, and she didn’t feel safe without a bodyguard. It was a horrible plan, really, but she just couldn’t make heads or tails of what to do.

In the end, Huz insisted they go to Malibu for sushi. For the most part, Rey was silent.

Three months on a tour that hadn’t yet finished. She used to be excited at seeing him come home or going to visit a venue. Now, he was a distant figure that didn’t fit into her daily routine. Los Angeles are huge and clustered, and when he was there, she felt cornered and tied to a post she didn’t recognize. With the knowledge that she could finally end things, she felt restless in his presence. Desperate to get away from him.

So when he described his band’s next album, she just wanted to roll her eyes and _literally_ run away. The First Order was not necessarily a boy band, but each bandmate had a following of fans who wore shirts with hashtags and their names on it. And _#TeamHux_ fans always made her aware of their hatred for her.

“You guys should just post a poll on your site and let your fangirls choose the title,” said Rey.

He shoved her. Lightly enough for her to barely stumble but with enough force to make her stop and look at him.

"Hux," she said. "Are you seriously offended?"

“Sod off, Rey. You don’t see me criticizing your boring ass movies.”

They were out in public. People walked around them, some obviously recognizing who they were. 

“ _Excuse me?_ It’s called a _joke_.”

Hux’s hand didn’t even touch her. Like slow motion, she saw him pull his hand back the way people did when they punched someone. Objectively, she knew what that meant. But in the space of that long drawn out second, she looked at him in confusion. Never before had he--

Ben leapt between them. He grabbed Hux’s wrist and with frightening efficiency, twisted it until there was a loud crack. The snap of bone made her flinch. All she could do was stare, vaguely aware of the commotion around them.

“I’ll kill you!” Hux collapsed onto the ground, screaming and cradling his hand to his chest. “You’re fucking done for, you got that? You’re fucking dead. Your life is over.”

The sound of sirens broke her trance. There were police officers around them and suddenly, Ben was thrown against the nearest car, his hands behind his back.

“Ben!” she yelled, pushing her way forward, looking from face to face of all the officers surrounding them. “No, leave him alone! He wasn’t--he wasn’t--”

“Ma’am,” one of them had told her, grabbing her upper arms. “You need to let us do our jobs.”

“He was _defending_ me,” Rey said, struggling to look for Ben, to meet his eyes. “You need to let go of him.”

In the end, Hux was a famous and powerful figure, and Ben was nobody but a bodyguard. A background figure. Rey had given them the business card to her lawyer, but she later heard that Ben had rejected the offer. After that, absolute silence -- from Ben, from the company he worked for, lawyers, the police. Short of hiring a private investigator, there was no way for Rey to contact Ben.

That day, Hux had gone straight to the hospital, then to the airport. Nothing could derail the second half of his tour.

That day, Rey hadn’t gone to the hospital. She also hadn’t seen Hux even get boarded into an ambulance. She hadn’t texted him. Feeling no need to do so, she’d gone on with her life without the infamous bad boy Hux. The prepaid tickets to visit his venues in Italy and Japan went ignored. She didn’t break up with him the way she had planned, yet it was enough.

To be perfectly honest, those months were the loneliest of Rey’s life. Not because Hux hadn’t bothered to text or call her, but because it was Ben who cut off all ties with her.

  
  


Now:

If he recognized his lost sweater from over two years ago, he didn’t say anything. In this house that he had spent countless hours in, he kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket onto her unused piano. Loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

“Finn told me you’re starting a nonprofit,” he said, pouring a splash of coke into his whiskey.

“Does Finn tell you a lot of things?”

He took her glass and topped it off with coke. When he handed it back, he let their fingertips touch. “Finn pretends he’s not a mediator for whatever this is.”

She broke eye contact and stared at the glass in her hand. This was really happening. This dangerous dance they’ve been entangled in for years was finally going to implode.

“I thought you lived on Springdale,” she said.

“I do.”

She thought of the cottage by the sea that she couldn't picture him in. Something she herself would have liked years ago, small and cozy and close to the sand. A lifetime of walking barefoot. "You don't live by Santa Monica pier, by the muscle beach?"

His smile fell. "That was Han’s property before he passed away. Technically, I own it. But I don't live there."

His gaze was unflinching. Rey nodded at the unspoken questioning hanging between them. "I looked for you. Hired a P.I. and that's all he could find. Ben, why didn't you tell me they fired you?”

He laughed, no humor in it. "One of two things was going to happen, Rey. You were either going to hate me for what I did to your fiancee or you were going to realize that I would do anything for you. I wasn't ready for you to see how much I am yours. I have loved you in the background for so long, I couldn't bare it for you to finally acknowledge it, only to reject it."

“And now?”

“Now? Now it’s time to move on. I can’t live like this anymore.”

  
  


Then:

The hateful thing about California was it had no business baring its cheerful weather when the cemetery was full of sweaty, mournful people surrounding a closed basket. Rey tried her best to appear respectful in her sleeveless black dress and heels. Clothes wrinkled and hair greasy, but she was there. She came alone but saw Finn in the crowd, so she joined him.

They only nodded in greeting.

Rey recognized a few faces from past family events. They gave her vague hellos and moved on, greeting Ben and his mother before taking a seat around the casket.

Rey embraced Ben the moment she saw him. She repeated the gesture for Leia.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to the memorial last night. If there's anything I can do, please let me know, anything you need, don't hesitate. I am so sorry for your loss."

Ben looked at her skeptically. "How did you get here?"

"I took an uber."

"You're supposed to be in Greece."

"Yeah, but I came." She hadn't even thought about it. When Finn called her, she had gotten on the train to the airport, bought a flight with three stops (and bought the black dress on a layover in Canada), and then tossed her clothes into the trash at LAX and ordered an uber, wearing her dress. She hadn't slept in twenty-four hours.

"Why would you come?"

"Ben," warned Leia.

Rey shifted under the heat of his look, which was growing angrier by the second.

"But why would you come? Han isn't your family. We're not your family. You didn’t have to inconvenience your perfectly scheduled itinerary just to visit a dead negligent alcoholic.”

His words scratched the deepest insecurities she hid [finish]. "Ben, I love and respect your family and I am here to pay my respects to you, your mom, and the memory of Han."

"You mean to reminisce about the affair you had with my dad."

"Ben!" Leia hissed.

Without acknowledging his words, Rey turned to Leia and gave her a tight smile. "I'm going to find a seat with Finn. I won't keep you from everyone. Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do."

Halfway through the ceremony, Rey noticed Ben drop his head into his hands, his shoulders moving. She stood and ignored all the eyes that shot to her. She sat beside Ben and wrapped an arm around his back, resting her head on his shoulder. She rubbed small circles on his back.

That night she drove him home and spent those dark hours with him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep. Eventually the jet lag and sleep deprivation overpowered her and she laid in his arms.

Rey spent that weekend at Ben's house. When she had left Greece, she hadn't packed a bag or carried any essentials, so she wore Ben's clothing. Old T-shirts and workout pants. On the second day he found his mother's leggings and an ex's sweater. All ill-fitting but clothes were clothes and though she brushed her teeth with toothpaste and a finger, she had no complaints.

They cooked and watched TV, and when Ben cried, Rey never hesitated in providing the comfort of her touch. They lived wordlessly--inside a bubble Rey struggled to leave. She spent four days inside that house before leaving, returning to Greece only by threat of a million dollar fine for abandoning set. She lied. Said her own father had died. The production company gave her those handful of days but not a single one more.

Ben drove her to the airport and when he parked outside her terminal, they looked at one another awkwardly. As if they knew they’d crossed a line.

Before he could say anything, Rey kissed his cheek and thanked him for the ride. She left for Greece with a tear stained shoulder and regret deep in her belly. 

_Ben_ . This time when she returned, she was ready to confront the feelings she kept hidden. The feelings that all involved _Ben_.

  
  
  


A memory: 

Han was a shameless flirt. Still handsome at his old age, Rey recognized the appeal that Leia had fallen for time and time again through--from Ben's retelling--their tumultuous marriage. She only met him a handful of times, but she liked him very much.

"Dad," snapped Ben, glaring at him. "knock it off or we're leaving."

Han leaned even closer to Rey and loudly whispered, "I don't know why the kid is getting angry with me. You're not even his girlfriend."

They both looked at Ben and laughed at his expense.

"She has a fiancee," spat Ben.

Rey didn't know why she was laughing so hard, but Han's teasing was so infectious she couldn't help but join the mutiny against Ben.

"Come on," she said. "Hux is on tour _a lot_. I can have a little side action with Mr. Silver Fox over here and besides, according to TMZ, I have a daddy complex."

Han roared. "Oh, I like this girl, Ben. You should make her your girlfriend before I make her your stepmom.”

“Disgusting old man,” muttered Ben, who waved them away and continued rifling through boxes of his childhood belongings. They were at his mother’s house for dinner and Ben had insisted he had a collection of old Pokemon cards that would make Rey lose her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Now:

Rey shot to her feet. “Are you--” She couldn't say _are you breaking up with me_ when there was no relationship and the things they had felt, had experienced, didn’t amount to much beyond friendship. She sat back down, feeling foolish. “Do you not want to be friends anymore? Do you just want to be out of each other’s life completely?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Gripping his drink, he looked into it as though lost in thought. “I have loved you, Rey,” he said mechanically, as though he practiced it every day in the mirror. “For so long, I have loved you--and I haven’t been waiting for you, you know that. But I can’t do it anymore. You’re holding me back from a life I want, from getting married, to having kids. Rey, I’m not getting any younger and as long as you’re in my life, I can’t be satisfied with anyone but _you_.”

She remembered that night on her front porch, when they were both unattached and young and the night had been warm and there had been enough electricity outside that lightbulb. They could have lit up the entire block, the entire city, with the sparks she’d felt when he had touched her hand. She remembered how much she had looked forward to seeing again, to how she didn’t kiss him that night. She had been so _stupid_.

“I regret it,” she said in a rush. “I regret it all so much. Why was I so dumb to stay with him for so long? I mean, Ben, would it be too late for _us_?”

He didn’t look at her. “Us?”

“That day it happened, when they arrested you, I was going to break up with Hux. For _you_. Just for a chance that you may want to be with me.”

He said nothing, only stared at her with a clenched jaw. 

“I know it must be too late,” she conceded. “I mean, the entire world knows he gave me chlamydia. Why would you want to be with the girl whose ass is public now, when he leaked that sex tape?”

“I thought--” he cleared his throat. “I thought you were depressed that he left you.”

“If I’m honest, I was ready to leave him almost a year ago, but I didn’t know how. He was just so _Hux_ . At first, he was the only one who understood the shot to fame. Then it got to his head and I couldn’t relate to him anymore, I mean, come on, gold-embossed socks? Asshole. But Ben, he _humiliated_ me in front of the entire _world_! In that same week, everyone knew I had chlamydia, had been cheated on, and then he--he--oh my god, I still can’t believe it--he leaked a sex tape of us, something I didn’t even know he had recorded until I saw it myself. And I only knew because of Finn’s mug in the background.”

She couldn’t sit any longer. She paced the length of her living room, pointing her drink in this direction and that direction. “I haven’t spoken to him since that day and I’ve gotten treated since the news broke. The shame won’t go away. I’ve been this sad little victim. _Me_ , the next fucking Bond now a pathetic girl who everyone’s been laughing at. I was a day from signing my new contract but all of a sudden, it’s on hold. ‘New clause’ and whatnot, whatever that means. I know these problems sound so ridiculous and even saying them makes me want to roll my eyes, but that’s what happened. Ben, I don’t know why you finally responded to Phasma. I don’t even know why you’re really here but if you want to move on, move on with me. Ben, I love you.”

  
  
  


Then: 

It happened slowly.

Phasma hired Ben for more outings once Rey began receiving death threats by the dozens. Each time with an embarrassing combination of words, which was required of all service staff. Phasma’s reasoning was simple: _if we hired them, they’ll do as I say. Or say what I tell them to._ At first, it was awkward. She had a boyfriend now and Ben was always there to Hux kiss her. But sometimes Hux wasn’t there and in those moments, she and Ben slowly became friends.

It was Ben who maintained a professional distance in public situations. It wasn’t until they were in private--like the limos Hux insisted they travel in--that Ben loosened his grim attitude. Like after some teen awards show they had attended together.

Rey bounced in her seat inside their limo. "Ben, did you get my invitation?"

He chuckled. "Yes. All three of them."

Hux huffed at this. "Three?"

Rey waved his question away. "Mail, text, and email. Ben is a _notorious_ antisocial creature, so I couldn't let him pretend he never got my invitation. He gave me a P.O. Box, can you believe it? He won’t even tell me where he lives.”

“I live on Springdale.”

“Oh yeah, that helps. That really narrows it down on that ten mile stretch of road.” Rey rolled her eyes at Hux. “Glad to hear you got them, Ben. I expect three different RSVPs."

"Me, myself, and I will be there, Rey. Unwilling but there."

This became too much for Hux, who was gaping at Rey as though she’d just given her bodyguard a blowjob.

"You invite your service people to events like this?" he asked. “Rey, come on.”

Rey avoided looking at her bodyguard. "You're so fucking rude, Hux. Ben is my friend. Ben, I'm so sorry."

“Don’t apologize for me! I’m sitting right here.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? _You’re_ not going to apologize and you’re being an _ass_. Don’t talk to my friends like that.”

“Don’t talk to _me_ like that.”

She threw her hands in the air. “You talk to me like that all the time, Hux. And it’s my birthday. It’s not an event. It’s just a small get together at my house.”

Her birthday changed everything. It was the first time, the morning after, that someone sold information about her. A clear picture of her and Ben sitting on her couch. It did appear suspect, eye contact and smiles wide, one of her hands resting on his shoulder. Lost in the world of each other. Hux had been livid; he'd read the entire article detailing how Rey had been jealous over one of their friends asking out Ben.

But she remembered it differently.

She remembered nothing about Hux’s friend asking out Ben. Nothing about what she and Ben were talking about.

  
  


Finn had sauntered over to Ben and looked him up and down, hand touching his chin. "What have I seen you in? I've seen you in something."

“Maybe in your dreams.”

“Oh.” Finn crossed his arms and nodded. “So you’re funny. You’re a funny guy?”

“I’m hilarious.”

They hit it off. Rey was sure she'd seen Finn slip Ben his business card, threatening to destroy him, his bloodline, and family name at a game of Risk. Board games were Finn’s forte and Ben was competitive to a fault. 

She didn’t remember avoiding Hux or preferring Ben. She only remembered how much fun it was listening to Finn describe meeting Rey fresh off the plane from London and how horrified he’d been to witness the savagery that were her eating habits. In fact, all his stories made fun of Rey but they were good natured so she didn’t mind.

What she did remember was the exclusive air Hux put on. Refusing to associate with anyone but a scant few of his friends and occasionally Rey when she walked by, Hux had been a jerk. Yet _she_ was the villain the next morning.

  
  


Now:

Rey was still standing. Breathing hard like she’d run a mile.

“Tell me it’s not too late, Ben,” she said. 

Quickly, before he could protest, she crossed the small space between them and threw herself into his lap. He stared as though in disbelief.

“Ben, will you say something? I’m dying here.”

His eyes fell on her lips. "Finn said you're a horrid kisser and that your breath tastes like rancid onions."

She stared at his mouth. "It's a good thing you don't want to kiss me then."

"Yes. Most definitely."

She grabbed his face between her hands. He was so close she could count every individual mole and fit her thumb inside the crescent of a dimple.

"Your hair is pretty," she said.

He smiled. "Your face is beautiful."

They lingered apart for another moment, the tension stretched out like a taut rubber band. She wished she could savor this moment a bit longer--the anticipation of what it felt to finally press her mouth to his and think _mine_. So when she did kiss him, time didn’t freeze. It sped up. Images of her and Ben now, tomorrow, next year. Her and Ben, both living inside this house. Married. Her pregnant. Rey never claimed to be a prophet but Ben felt right. Like all the memories beyond tonight would no longer be fragmented, only bearable in small increments. 

  
  


A memory:

He pretended it didn’t hurt.

Behind his sunglasses, he watched her without restraint. Traced the curves of her waist with his gaze, in secret. Always in secret. How he dreamed of tracing his fingers down her spine to that waist he dreamed of.

“Ben!” she called, as though his name wrapped in the lilt of her voice didn’t bring him to his knees. “Come on, Ben! The water is so nice!”

They were on the beach again. Practically lived there during the summer. It was a time of suffocating heat and clusters of tourists, and already he saw at least a dozen of them recording Rey in her polka dot bikini. Either oblivious or having lost the will to care, Rey leapt underwater and reemerged a few seconds later. Her smile was positively radiant.

It was just them again. 

As he waded into the water, he considered what life meant for Rey now. Gone was the frazzled girl he’d met, shaken by a first encounter with a stalker. Now Rey hardly went into public without Ben or another bodyguard from the agency--almost as if accepting that she would never have the privilege of solitude. Or maybe she simply didn’t feel safe without one of them. He didn’t know her very well. Nothing beyond a handful of routine small talks.

 _“Finally!”_ she yelled, splashing water on him. He laughed.

Request him every day. From dawn to dusk, if he was filtered into her daily life as a shadow, he did not mind one bit. Even if it hurt to see her smile at him and know she smiled like that for everyone. Even if he knew nothing would change from the way things were.


End file.
